


Sunlit Bay

by allihearisradiogaga



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Alternate Universe - Surfers, Cute, Fluff, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Photography, Pining, prompto is thirsty for gladio and so am i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: Prompto gets some pictures of Gladio while he surfs in a secluded, sunny cove.





	Sunlit Bay

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!!! This is a super self-indulgent little drabble inspired 100% by carmensandyeggo's "Rays and Waves" AU: https://carmensandyeggo.tumblr.com/post/165639854946/rays-and-waves  
> It was too cute for me to handle so I had to write something. Ty for the rad AU and I hope you don't mind me adding on this lil blob o' writing!
> 
> Ty to @hobbit_hedgehog for the beta! Sorry for adding on another ship to the growing mass of pairings you're stockpiling in your beta folder.

Prompto felt the waves lapping against his shins as he stood, stock-still, in the warm ocean water.  He could feel the hot sun beating down on his exposed shoulders’ pale skin and knew that he was going to have both a sunburn and a few new freckles later.

His camera—held to his eye as it often was—trained on the small dark speck that was slowly moving to that spot in the bay where the waves just began to crest.  He twisted the zoom around the lens, and the speck grew larger in his field of vision.  Gladio was tanned skin silhouetted against the brilliant blue of the sea, the Adonis who happened to be both the target of his photography and of his heart.

The ocean breeze ruffled Prompto’s flop of hair, and the flecks of ocean spray danced across his stomach and chest, leaving little Jackson Pollock splatters on his tank top.

He isolated the telescoping lens even further, pulling in an even closer close-up of the surfer in his sights.  His chiseled jaw off set against his mane of hair, the scar across his massive chest that led to his perfectly sculpted arms…

Prompto pulled the zoom outward with such a jerk that he almost lost Gladio from the frame completely.  Almost.

He pulled out enough to get a full-body shot of Gladiolus as he pulled himself out of the water and onto his board, the water glistening off of his body as he did.  It was a good picture, but it was the type of picture he’d be able to sell to a sexy calendar before he was able to sell it to a sporting magazine.  He’s probably keep that picture from himself and for Gladio.  Gladio would grin and say something along the lines of “of course I am, look at me!” when Prompto told him this picture of him was hot.  Prompto would take this opportunity to take a mental photograph of the blush that flushed Gladio’s face as he feigned confidence.

Gladio stood to his full, imposing height on his board.  Prompto felt the slight worry that he always felt when he saw Gladio mount up, the fear that the wave would shift the slightest bit and he’d lose his balance, or that he’d slop on the slick surface of the board, or maybe even that his coordination was just off today, and that he’d end up in the water.  It didn’t’ matter now—they were alone in the little cover—but in a competition…

Gladio tilted the board, shifting his weight, and he moved effortlessly forward with the force, skimming along the top of the water as if he were not moving at all.  Prompto knew from experience that this stillness, this calm, came from so many minute muscle adjustments that resulted in the appearance of being stock-still while maintianing balance on the wave.

It was the same way he felt whenever he was seen in public with Gladiolus, the constant steadying of his face muscles to keep a calm and collected exterior as he panicked constantly about the way others saw the two of them together.  There was no reason to; Gladio wanted him by his side, and that was all that should have really mattered, but…

There was something in self-confidence that Prompto could really only ever fake.  That’s why he was behind the camera, not in front of it.

Through the lens, Prompto watched Gladio’s stomach muscles contract as he pulled his legs underneath him a bit more, tilting the board up into the rising wave.  He snapped a pictured as a spray came up from beneath the board, perfectly framing Gladio’s perfect posture.

Gladio’s hand trailed briefly in the wave next to him, his fingertips dancing in the rushing water, and he twisted his hips to angle the board downward again, riding the wave perpendicular to the shore as it began to curl down over itself.  He gained speed and momentum, and Prompto didn’t waste his chance to get some good photos.  At the angle Gladio was riding the wave, he was headed straight toward Prompto, even that far out, and it was the perfect opportunity to get some straight-on shots.  Prompto adjusted the zoom carefully and constantly with one hand as the other hand snapped one picture after the other.

Gladio was _grinning_ —the grin stretched from one side of his face to another—and Prompto felt his heart flutter even as he was snapping the pictures.  There were surfers who got into the sport for the glory—that wasn’t to say that Gladio wasn’t in it for the glory, but—they often left out the crucial aspect of enjoyment for the sport.  Gladio never left that out.  He enjoyed what he did, and as much as he did it for his job, as much as he surfed to win competitions, he still did it for fun.  He did it because he liked to do it.  That was what made the difference.

That was what made the difference, Prompto thought, in their relationship, as well.  This wasn’t something that he was doing to show off—it wasn’t a tryst with a bikini model who had come to an event, and it wasn’t a few dates with a beautiful local girl who was there for the thrill of getting with a professional surfer.  Gladio didn’t get anything publicly out of dating Prompto.  Prompto wasn’t a showstopper, and he knew it.  Which meant that if Gladio was going to throw in with him, if Gladio was willing to be seen with him, if Gladio _loved_ him…

It meant it was real.

He was doing it for the fun, not the glory.

He was doing it because he cared.

The wave was crashing down now, and Gladio twisted his body again to try to get out ahead of it.  The white of the surf tickled his shoulders for a moment, and Prompto thought he was going to go down then and there.  Somehow, Gladio was able to push the board just a bit more, and he was able to get that extra bit of speed he needed to get out ahead of the wave as it totally crashed down into foam.  He briefly glanced over his shoulder to check that he had actually made it out of the wave.  When he saw that he had, he turned back to Prompto and flashed him a thumbs-up.

Prompto was about to give him the same thumbs-up back when Gladio over-adjusted for the turn-around he had made to check the wave and lost his balance, pinwheeling his arms for a moment before crashing head-first into the surf.

Prompto dropped his camera to his side to look on in concern, but realized immediately that he could better see through the zoom of his lens.  He put it back up to his eye just to see Gladio’s feet sticking out of the water for a split second before the wave crashed over where his board was.  A moment later, Gladio re-emerged, sputtering, from the placid water left over from the wave.  Mats of his hair hung down over his face, and he brushed them away with one hand as the other paddled in the water to keep him afloat.  Prompto pressed down on the shutter button without even thinking about it.  Gladio flashed him another smile.

It only took a few minutes—with a few quick shots of Gladio rising from the water, dripping wet—before he was able to make it to Prompto.  Prompto opened his mouth to greet him, to tell him how good he’d looked out there, until the end, but he wasn’t able to say anything before Gladio wrapped him up in a big bear hug.

“Uh—ah, Gladio!  You’re all wet!”

Gladio planted a kiss on Prompto’s forehead.

“You made me look good anyway, didn’t you?” he said, releasing Prompto.  Prompto looked down at himself to see a wet imprint of Gladio’s abs on his tank top.  He raised an eyebrow, then looked to Gladio and grinned.

“I didn’t have to do much work at it,” he said, “but I appreciate you giving me those angles at the end.  Coming right at me, and all.”

Gladio beamed.  “That was all for you!”  He moved in close beside Prompto, the ocean in front of them.  “Let’s see those pics.”

“Oh, no,” said Prompto, quickly pulling his camera back before Gladio could try to haggle for the photo roll.  “Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“No,” said Prompto.  “I figured I’d show them to you over some dinner.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow now, and Prompto could see a tinge of redness in his cheeks that wasn’t just from the sun.  “Y-yeah!  Of course!”

“Let’s go, then, big man.”  Prompto grabbed ahold of Gladio’s arm and leaned his head against Gladio’s soft shoulder as they walked up the beach of the small cove toward where Gladio had left his board when he came out of the water, the sun shining gently on their faces, warming them both.

And despite the inadequacy Prompto felt, it was moments like this that mattered.  Not what other people thought, not what the world thought—just what _they_ thought.  The two of them, in their own little bay, together.


End file.
